Best Laid Plans
by Baloo
Summary: [Complete] It's been 3 years since the Labyrinth and Sarah is trying to live a normal life. But it seems that Fate has other plans... or is it just a particular Goblin King?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** It's been 3 years since the Labyrinth, and Sarah Williams is trying to live a normal life, and trying to move on. But it seems that Fate has decided against that… or is it simply one certain Goblin King? 

**A/N:** Yeah, I know the summary is pretty vague, but I'll be upfront and tell you that the plot is still rather sketchy. And I don't want to give it away by accidentally saying too much right now. 

**Disclaimer:** Jareth, Sarah, any other familiar characters, and the Labyrinth do not belong to me. I'd be rather shocked to find out otherwise. 

  
  
  


** Best Laid Plans **

  
- Chapter 1 - 

  
  


_But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,  
In proving foresight may be vain:  
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men  
Gang aft a-gley,  
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain  
For promis'd joy._

--Robert Burns, "To a Mouse"-- 

  
  
  
Sarah Williams had decided to have sex. She was eighteen, she was an adult, she had graduated from high school—she had plenty of reasons. The fact that she wasn't actually in love with her boyfriend, Michael, was just a minor setback. It hardly even upset the overall equation. 

They'd been going out for almost six months now; he was sweet, funny and incredibly cute, with his chestnut hair and sea-green eyes. He could make her smile, and that was important. And hopefully after they had done—it—she would grow to love him as he proclaimed to love her. 

Oh, okay, so the reasonable, rational part of her was telling her she was a fool to let herself believe that, but reason and ration be damned. Love was nowhere in sight, and she didn't want to end up a thirty-year-old virgin, who spent her weekends babysitting her younger brother and the rest of the time indulging herself in a world of fantasy. True, when she was thirty, Toby would be fifteen and hardly in need of a babysitter… but there was a point here somewhere, even if she seemed to have temporarily forgotten it. 

Her father, Karen and Toby had gone to visit Karen's parents and didn't expect to be back until the next day, trusting her to take care of herself. Earlier that week, a couple of days after finding out about their plans, Sarah had casually mentioned their intended trip to Michael. He'd paused a moment before responding. "So you're gonna be all alone in that house for a couple of days?" 

"Yeah." She knew what Michael was thinking, and she was already several steps ahead of him. "Listen, you remember that—thing—we were talking about the other day?" 

He nodded. Of course he remembered. 

Sarah swallowed once before continuing. "I think I'm ready." 

Michael leaned forward, his emotions clear in his eyes. That was what had truly drawn her to him: his eyes. They were so clear and expressive, and he never hid his feelings from her, never even tried. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. 

Was she? She looked back into those soft eyes, filled with all those wonderful emotions, all directed towards her. How could she ask for more from anyone? "Yes," she replied. She smiled at him, trying to erase all her doubts with that single act, "Yes, I'm sure." 

And that was how she found herself in her present condition, lying on her bed in Michael's arms, engaged in a rather drawn-out match of tongue-wrestling. Tongue-wrestling, really, that wasn't very romantic, she mentally chastised herself. She shouldn't be thinking in such terms—after all, there was only one opportunity for first times. 

Michael's hands had slipped up to her chest where he'd begun unbuttoning her blouse. When he'd finished, he went to remove it, but it got caught just beneath her shoulders. She arched her back awkwardly, allowing him the access he required, and she slipped it down completely. But they hit a second snag when they realized that he'd forgotten to unbutton her sleeves, and the cuffs were too tight to simply slip over her hands. Sarah sighed mentally. It would have been a lot easier if she had just done it herself. But Michael had wanted to do it, he'd said it would be more romantic this way. She let a small smile come to her face as she watched him work the buttons—he really was a sweet guy. 

When he finally had the shirt off, Michael tossed it aside onto the floor. Sarah stared at it regretfully. She had used a whole week's worth of her income from her part-time job at the library to buy it, and saved it especially for today. And this was how it got its christening—she'd have to get it dry-cleaned just to get the wrinkles out. 

Her attention was diverted when she felt the bed shift beneath Michael's weight as he raised himself up on his knees, one resting on either side of her own body. He pulled off his sweater and tossed it onto the growing pile on the floor. She looked up and met his gaze with her own, desire burning clear in his, while hers remained clouded with unreadable thoughts. He was amazing, all lean frame and firm muscles—any girl would be lucky to have him. She was not settling. 

"You're so beautiful," he murmured before he began trailing kisses along her face. Sarah didn't respond, just absorbed the compliment as if he'd commented on the weather. But Michael didn't seem to notice. 

They continued to kiss, while sometimes his mouth would wander along her jaw, or down to her neck. His hands roamed her body until eventually they reached the clasp of her bra and undid it. Well, at least there wasn't any of the embarrassing fumbling from earlier. 

Just as he was began slipping the straps down the length of her arms, an angry voice boomed out, "Sarah Williams, what do you think you're doing?" 

A loud shriek filled the air, but surprisingly, it didn't come from Sarah. 

Michael hit the floor with a dull thud on the far side of the bed, while Sarah grabbed her covers by one corner and rolled across the bed, allowing them to provide her with some decency. Unfortunately, it also meant she couldn't see a thing. But maybe that was a good thing, she thought, reconsidering. 

Michael's voice reached her ears, muffled through the layers of blankets that engulfed her head. "Oh shit! Um, Mr. Williams, you're not supposed to be back until tomorrow… I mean, this is not what it looks—hey, you're not Mr. Williams." 

At that last part, Sarah opened her eyes, not having realized that she had even closed them. It was rather redundant considering she couldn't see anyway. She took a moment to contemplate whether it might not be best if she just stayed hidden in her little cocoon forever, but finally curiosity got the better of her. Steeling herself against whatever might come her way, she slowly pulled the covers down from her face. 

The sight that greeted her was one she had not anticipated at all, causing her eyes to widen in shock until she felt for sure she must look like one of the characters from Toby's cartoon shows. 

Three words came to her mind. Oh. My. God. 

"Jareth…?!" 

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 1 -


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Oh my god, I've already been threatened with a flaying if I didn't update within 24 hours! I don't know whether to be afraid, or flattered. I guess I could be both. Thank you for all the reviews—oh, how I live for them! I hope chapter 2 is up to your expectations. 

**Disclaimer:** You know it, I know it, the whole world knows it… do I really have to spell it out? NOT MINE. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans 

**

- Chapter 2 - 

  
_Touch if you will my stomach  
Feel how it trembles inside  
You've got the butterflies all tied up  
Don't make me chase you  
Even doves have pride_

--Prince, "When Doves Cry"-- 

  
  
Three more words entered Sarah's head: Angry Goblin King. 

And then, a whole flood of thoughts came rushing in. Among them, What's he doing here? I thought he was dead. I was just about to have sex. How much did he see? Did Michael just scream like a little girl? 

At that last thought, Sarah turned toward her boyfriend, who was still sitting on the floor, staring at the intruder in shock. Half naked, bewildered, and his desire decidedly… deflated. 

Then she turned back to her unexpected visitor, who watched them both coolly, arms folded across his chest. The expression on his face—well, the last time she had seen that very expression was on her math teacher, Mr. Zalinsky, three years ago. It was just two weeks after her little adventure, and she'd found herself constantly engrossed in daydreams, unable to concentrate on anything else. And then Sarah, normally a 'B' student, had scored herself a stunning 14% on her math exam. She suddenly remembered Mr. Zalinsky's exact words: "I'm disappointed in you, Sarah. We _both_ know you can do much better than this." 

Sarah felt her cheeks redden as the seconds dragged out. Finally Michael broke the silence. "You, um, know this guy, Sarah?" 

Jareth's eyes momentarily flicked toward Michael, and a flurry of emotions passed through them, before they finally resettled into their usual expression. So neutral and indifferent. She could almost believe that this was just a casual, albeit unanticipated, reunion, not—whatever it actually was. 

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," she replied hesitantly. She had so many questions, but how could she ask them in front of Michael? She looked toward Jareth to see if perhaps he had something to say on the matter. 

Apparently, he did not. He seemed completely satisfied with leaving the explanations to her. 

Suddenly, embarrassment and discomfort aside, she felt herself getting very annoyed. Who did he think he was, showing up here after all these years and in circumstances such as this? She had not invited him into her life with her words this time. Toby was not even home. 

Face hardening, she demanded answers. "What are you doing here?" Okay, there was question number one. 

Jareth's attention returned to her. "Preventing you from making the biggest mistake of your life." Then he smirked. Oh, there it was again, three years later and just as infuriating as ever. "Or, should I say, _doing_ the biggest mistake of your life?" 

"Hey!" Michael interjected indignantly, while Sarah blushed a deeper shade of red. But Michael's complaints were quieted when Jareth sent him a single disdainful look. "Fair enough," he mumbled. 

"I would really rather do this elsewhere, Sarah," Jareth continued once he had dealt with the interruption. "Someplace where we don't have to worry about an audience." 

And just like that, before she had a chance to respond, they were gone, appearing an instant later in Jareth's throne room. An empty, silent, intimidating throne room. Aside from their locale, two other things had also changed. First, Sarah found herself standing, no longer sitting as she had been in her bedroom. Second, and more importantly, Jareth had transported her sans her blankets. Therefore, she was currently standing in the Goblin King's near-empty throne room, a few mere feet away from said ruler himself, wearing only jeans and her unclasped bra. 

One leering grin and she was suddenly reminded of that fact. Her hands moved quickly to replace it as her fingers fumbled nervously on the clasp, and it didn't help the way he kept looking at her. 

"Sarah, Sarah," he murmured as he moved close enough to trace the light blue material with one leather-clad finger. "I would have guessed white." 

Freed from their completed task, her hands came up and pushed him away. It was strange how she had just moments ago been ready to go all the way with Michael, and now, mere looks and a suggestion from Jareth were enough to fill her with fear. More fear than she had experienced when she'd traversed the Labyrinth in order to save Toby. 

"Oh, come now, Sarah," he said, fixing her with his mocking gaze. "You're not a child any longer—as you were just about to prove before I intervened." She detected just a hint of bitterness in the last part of that statement. 

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, reaching for some bit of modesty, as she replied, "What I was willing to do was with Michael, and those feelings are non-transferable." 

"And what exactly is it about your _Michael_—" he practically spat the name out—"That makes you willing to give such an important part of yourself up to him?" 

She glared at him in return. This was not a conversation that she wanted to have. God, she was starting to wish that it had been her dad who had walked in on them. But she realized that she had to answer, or else he would think that she had none to give him. "He loves me," she finally replied. 

One arched eyebrow, "Do tell." 

"What's there to tell?" she asked. "He said he does, and I believe him." 

An undecipherable look clouded over Jareth's face. "That was how he said it, in those very words." It wasn't a question, but Sarah nodded anyway. "And that was what you wanted to hear, some empty words?" he asked, sounding angry now. 

But Sarah was angry too, angry at the way he had brought her here without her consent, angry at the way he had simply burst back into her life, and angry at the way he could remain so damn unreadable even when he was full of emotion. "They are not empty words!" 

"Yes, Sarah, they are," he replied cruelly. "Empty and hollow and meaningless. And how quickly you fell for the lies." 

Before she could even think about what she was doing, her hand came up to meet his face, but in that very same instant, his own came up and grabbed her wrist. She stumbled backward as he pushed her roughly up against the wall, bringing his lips down to her own. 

Sarah's eyes widened in response, as she stood, one hand pinned beneath his, and the other free but unknowing what to do. Then he pulled back, but his face was close enough still that all she could see were his eyes. Even then, without looking down, she knew he was grinning. 

"Or maybe not, after all." To her confused gaze, he clarified, "You never said you loved him." 

"I—" she opened her mouth to reply, but realized she had nothing to say. 

Finally, he let go of her hand and moved back far enough so that she could remember to breathe. "So why would you give yourself to him?" he repeated his earlier question. 

Sarah looked away and whispered, more to herself than to him, "It's not so important." But he heard nonetheless. After a moment's pause she met his gaze again, a renewed determination in her eyes. "It doesn't matter anyway—what you think and how you feel, about me and Michael—it doesn't matter." She pushed herself away from the wall, standing firmly as she spoke. He'd called her cruel once, and she decided to live up to his description. "Who are you to tell me what to do? I will do what I want… and who I want." Yes, that seemed to do the trick. "Go back to your Labyrinth, Goblin King. No one called for you, so you have no power over me." 

Jareth's face hardened, the anger clear in his mismatched eyes. But then suddenly he grinned, a cold and frightening expression. "That sounds to me like a challenge, Sarah, and I certainly do enjoy a challenge." 

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 2 - 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Probably not yours. Doesn't mean we can't all have a little fun. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans 

**

- Chapter 3 - 

  
_We do what we must, and call it by the best names._

--Ralph Waldo Emerson-- 

  
  
With Jareth's final words still ringing in her ears, Sarah found herself once again in her bedroom. But any relief she may have begun experiencing quickly disappeared when she realized that Michael was no longer there. 

"Michael?" No response. 

She glanced about, her panic rising. "Michael?" She was just about to rule out the possibility that he was still somewhere in the room when an idea struck her and she quickly dropped to her knees. Peering beneath her bed, she saw nothing but dust bunnies, an etch-a-sketch, and a pile of Beverly Hills, 90210 posters back from the days when she used to think Luke Perry was god's answer to everything (she shuddered to think upon it now)—but no Michael. Well, it was definitely worth a try. 

Rising from the floor, she made her way to the door but abruptly stopped and made a quick detour to the closet. She snatched herself a nice thick, comfy sweatshirt, quickly pulling it on as if it were an impenetrable armor against whatever may come. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered whom exactly it was that she was protecting herself against, but that was a question better left for... never. 

She flew down the stairs, but her search ended quickly when she turned the corner and collided into a warm body. Before she could hit the ground though, strong arms caught her and she found herself looking up into Michael's eyes. 

"Where were you?" Sarah gasped. Absently, she noticed that he too was once again wearing his shirt. 

"Where was _I_? Where were _you_?" Michael exclaimed. "I'm not the one who was just abducted by the sex police!" 

Sarah groaned inwardly, since this was the part she had been trying hard not to think about. How to answer all the questions that were probably racing through his head. Part of her wished she could just resolve this as Jareth had; simply transport Michael back to his house, and avoid him until she was ready for their next meeting. But she couldn't, and she liked to think she wouldn't even if she were endowed with the ability to do so. Silently, she led him to the living room and seated him on the couch. This was definitely one of those "you better have a seat" things. 

Michael watched her expectantly as she paced the floor and fumbled about for an explanation. Where to begin? What to include, and what was best left out? Well, there was an easy answer to that last question—the kiss. Her fingers gently traced her lips, but she quickly snatched them away when she realized what she had been doing. Do _not_ go there, she silently admonished herself. 

Finally, she decided on the safest route possible. Pausing before him, she asked, "Exactly what did you see?" 

Michael blinked. She could almost see him take the two mental steps back. "Well," he began slowly, "We were on your bed, about to have sex"—Sarah tried not to wince, while wondering why he couldn't just say "it" like any normal person—"when that guy showed up out of nowhere." 

"And...?" 

"And he called me 'the biggest mistake of your life', then you two were just—gone!" 

Sarah ran a hand through her dark hair, a gesture that belied her frustration. She had been hoping that he'd somehow missed the part where she and Jareth simply disappeared into thin air, but it seemed that Fate was not on her side today. 

"Sarah?" Michael said quietly. 

She glanced at his face, seeing confusion and something else that she couldn't define. And it struck her as strange that this was the first time in the course of their relationship she couldn't read him like a book. 

Oh great, two minutes of being in the same room as the Goblin King, and the man began to rub off onto you. 

"You said you knew him. How?" When a long moment passed and she hadn't replied, he continued, "Were you two involved?" 

The inflection was obvious. And it was as if Sarah's body didn't know whether she should pale at the suggestion, or blush at the possibility. She did neither. 

"Oh god, no!" she replied, horrified. Horrified, yes, definitely, she told herself. 

Michael looked relieved. "Well then, how?" 

Sarah sighed and sat down on the couch next to him, angled so she was actually facing him. "It's a long story." 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I have time. Considering that our original plans seem to have been—put on hold." 

"Hmm, well that was his intention," she murmured softly, eyes downcast. 

"His?" Michael prodded gently. 

"Jareth," she replied, and it was as if a great weight had been—well, not quite lifted completely off her shoulders, but rather shifted to a slightly more comfortable position. "I have to start this from the beginning." When Michael didn't interject, she continued, "Three years ago I kind of… wished my brother away." She paused to assess his reaction. 

He didn't appear to know what to make of that. "A Richard Simmons' Dream Maker kind of wish?" 

"Um, no." 

"A drop a penny in the wishing well kind of wish?" 

"No." 

"A 'when you wish upon a star…' kind of wish?" 

"No." 

A brief pause. "Well, I'm stumped. What kind of wish was this?" 

"An 'I wish the goblins would come and take him away' kind of wish." 

"Okaaay." Well, it wasn't the _worst_ reaction she could have received, although there was still plenty of room for amendment. "And this Jareth guy comes in how?" 

Deep breath, moment of truth. "He's the Goblin King." 

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 3 -

  
Okay, I stopped here because it seemed to be a natural break, but I promise to get the next part out real soon.  
I'm already working on it. But in the meantime, keep those reviews coming—I love y'all for 'em.  
Even those of you who choose to threaten me.  
*There's a little masochist in all of us.* 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Alright, as per requested, I've made this chapter a little longer than the others. 

**Disclaimer:** I feel as if we've been here before… Anyway, don't own 'em. Except Michael. 

**A/A/N**: Elona, I'm glad you did. But the truth it, I only got the double entendre myself after I'd already chosen the poem. Doesn't mean I didn't like it . And thanks again everyone for your reviews. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans 

**

- Chapter 4 - 

br> _You've got this strange effect on me  
And I like it  
You've got this strange effect on me  
And I like it _

You make my world seem right  
You make my darkness bright, oh yes  
You've got this strange effect on me  
And I like it, and I like it 

And I like the way you kiss me  
Don't know if I should  
But this feeling it's love and I know it  
That's why I feel good  
You've got this strange effect on me  
And I like it 

--Hooverphonics, "This Strange Effect"-- 

  
  
Michael blinked. "Oh. Of course. Wherever there are goblins, there must be a Goblin King." 

Sarah frowned at that. "Are you alright with this? I mean, you believe me, don't you?" 

"Sure I do," he replied, giving her an unsteady grin. "I mean, I think I do... well, I'm open to the possibility that you should be believed…" 

Since his conviction seem to be wavering with each successive sentence, Sarah decided to interrupt. "Look, I understand that you'd find this all difficult. It's one of those things you have to see to believe—" Michael quickly nodded his assent—"But you were here, you saw us both disappear into thin air, and you can't tell me that that was normal." 

"Yeah, I was kind of wondering how you did that." 

"That would be thanks to his Highness," she said, rolling her eyes. "One of those powers that I guess comes with the territory, and one which he seems particularly fond of." Then, as an afterthought she added, "That and those damn crystal balls." 

Eyebrows raised, but deciding to let the last comment pass, Michael inquired, "Um, so, since Toby's still around, even though you wished him away, I'm guessing there's more to this story." 

"Well, I never really meant for Toby to be taken away, and as soon as I realized what had happened, I tried to take back the words. But of course, _he_ wouldn't let me. 'What's said is said'," she mimicked the words he had spoken all that time ago. "So instead, he gave me thirteen hours to solve his labyrinth, and if I succeeded I got Toby back, if I didn't he'd be turned into a goblin." She paused. 

"And?" 

"I won. I said the words, got back the baby. And everything was good and right in the world. That's it in a nutshell." 

Yes, it left a lot out, but suddenly Sarah wasn't in the mood to be sharing the details. Partly, it was due to the fact that, having never told anyone the story before, she suddenly didn't know how to put it all into words. And in part it was just that she felt uncomfortable telling Michael about the experience, almost as if she were betraying—no, that was just crazy. You can't betray a memory. Well, maybe you could, but you couldn't betray a _bad_ memory like her ordeal in the Labyrinth. 

Michael mulled over her words, a slight crease appearing in the center of his forehead. Sarah knew what that crease meant. She even had a name for it: it was the "something's rotten in the state of Denmark" crease. Acting in her blood and all, she thought it rather appropriate. 

"What?" 

"Well, while I don't doubt what you've said so far, none of that explains why he showed up here. And why now." 

Sarah leaned back against the couch and slouched down low in her seat. "I'd explain it to you if I understood it myself." 

Michael didn't seem to buy that. "Sarah?" 

She sighed. "Yes, okay, there is the possibility that he may have been interested in me… in some form or another… but I didn't really know it at the time. I just figured he was trying to distract me from solving the labyrinth and getting back Toby." Before Michael could comment, though, she hastily added, "But it was entirely on his part, not mine. We were _not_ involved!" 

The Denmark crease hadn't entirely disappeared yet. "Okay, so he's in love with you, but you're not in love with him." At the word "love" Sarah began fidgeting nervously. She really wished he wouldn't put it that way. "That would explain his showing up here out of the blue." There was a thoughtful pause and she could sense a "but" coming on. 

"What?" 

"It's been three years, and this was the first time you saw him since that day?" Michael asked. 

"Yes." 

"Hmm." 

"Hmm, what?" Sarah couldn't help but feel that there was something that she was missing in this conversation. And her frequent need to use the word "what" was beginning to irritate her. 

"I was just thinking," Michael replied, but he seemed to hesitate, unsure of whether he should continue. 

Sarah was not so indecisive. "What is it?" she asked sharply. 

Michael glanced at her, and in his eyes she could read that he didn't want to be the one to point this out to her. She was really starting to get worried now. "We both heard him say his purpose was to prevent you from, um, 'making the biggest mistake of your life'. How did he know just when to show up? I mean, he couldn't have known when you were planning on having sex, or whether you hadn't already done it anytime during the past three years, unless..." he drifted off, leaving her to put the remaining piece in place. 

"Unless he's been watching me this whole time," Sarah completed, the horror of it just dawning on her. 

"Oh my god! He's been watching me this whole time!" She leapt up from her seat and began her pacing anew, but much more frantic and erratic than it had been before. 

"All these times that I thought I was alone, and no one could see me... he could just pull up his little crystal ball..." her eyes widened even further, and it seemed that she'd forgotten all about Michael's presence. "What about when I was... Or when I was..." She abruptly stopped her pacing here. "Or when I... Oh my god!" Her face turned a bright shade of red, and her hand covered her mouth in the classic sign of horror. 

Michael found himself very intrigued by all the possibilities running through Sarah's head, and he unconsciously leaned forward in his seat, wondering exactly what were all the things that she could never imagine doing in front of another person. Of course, he had enough sense not to ask, because he certainly had no death wish. 

Suddenly, Sarah glanced down at him and revealed in a harsh whisper, "He could be watching us right now!" Michael swallowed uncomfortably and looked about as if he could somehow sense whether or not this was true. The possibility did not sit well with him. But then shaking his head as if to clear it, he decided they could not keep up this line of thinking. 

"Sarah, I meant that he would have had to been looking in on you from time to time," he interjected, hoping to calm her down and divert her from further disturbing thoughts. "I doubt he would have been watching you _all_ the time. I mean, he has to have a life, doesn't he?" He reached up and grabbed her by the arms, gently pulling her back onto the couch next to him. 

Confused and worn out from all the emotions that she had already endured in the span of a few hours, Sarah let herself be guided. "I guess," she mumbled. 

"Right," Michael continued, gaining in his convictions. "And it's not like he would have had to watch you all the time to know whether or not you were, um, involved with anyone." 

"Yes. Yes, I suppose so." 

"And, well, I don't know this guy Jareth at all, but I would like to think that he would have better taste than to be watching in some of those situations that you—" he cleared his throat here—"seem to find especially disturbing." 

Sarah blushed again, tilting her head forward so her long hair fell between them like a curtain. Even if Michael didn't know exactly what those "situations" were, he was bound to have ventured a guess as to their nature. Well, she supposed, there wasn't really any reason to be embarrassed. They were things that everyone did. 

But that didn't mean that anyone should watch you do them. Definitely not. There was no way she would ever forgive Jareth if she found out that he had. Damn, infuriating Goblin King! Now she was going to have to live the rest of her life in the shadow of paranoia. 

Still, she tried to let herself be comforted by his words, and not to indulge her fears. Eventually, they left the topic altogether, attempting to somewhat enjoy their night together, even if things hadn't gone as they had planned. 

It was several hours before Michael finally went home, and even then only after a great deal of convincing on Sarah's part. He had insisted on staying to watch over her in case Jareth should return, but Sarah had assured him there was little chance of that happening tonight. After all, he had waited three years to make his move, and being who he was, of course he would want to draw this game out as long as possible, just to enhance her misery. 

Finally, having seen Michael to the door, she decided that she no longer had the energy to deal with any of it, and made her way to her room. After changing into her pajamas, with the lights off and every visible mirror covered, she made her way to her bed to fold down the sheets, pausing as her hand brushed up against a smooth piece of paper. 

She snatched it up and flicked on the nearest lamp to reveal the elegant writing. But all she could feel was a prevailing sense of dread as she read the message inscribed upon it: 

_ Sarah, 

You say I have no power over you. I'm going to prove just how wrong you are.

_

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 4 - 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm not trying to torture anyone, I swear. These things just have a mind of their own. You're all writers, you know what I mean. Oh yes, another chapter out already. This one really flowed along. I wasn't trying to write it, I was trying to study. But it just wouldn't leave me alone! 

**Disclaimer:** I could own them, if I wanted to, I really could. I just don't want to. So I don't. Really. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans 

**

- Chapter 5 - 

  
_In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it._

--Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan-- 

  
  
  
A week passed with no sign of Jareth, and if it weren't for the fact that Michael had seen him too, and she wasn't quite sure where she stood on the whole "mass hallucination" possibility, Sarah could almost have believed she'd imagined the encounter entirely. 

The one thing that had definitely changed over the course of the week, however, was that she was now thinking about _him_ more than she had in almost three years, as much as she had back when she'd just returned from her ordeal. 

Too often she caught herself drifting off into her daydreams, thinking thoughts that had no right being—at work, at home, when she was hanging out with her friends. Not that they were always pleasant daydreams, mind you. She still harbored a great deal of resentment over the invasion of her privacy. But she wasn't sure which daydreams were worse since the angry ones would leave her irritated and snappish at anyone who had the misfortune of coming near her during those periods, and the others were just plain… disturbing. 

It was exactly one week after their reunion, and Sarah had agreed to stay home and baby-sit while her father and Karen went out. Sarah wasn't quite the footstool she used to be at fifteen, and ever since she'd begun dating Michael, her stepmother had been much more understanding when she turned down a night of babysitting because she "had plans." Not that she minded the duty all that much anymore. After almost losing her younger brother to Jareth, she had come to realize just how much the little guy meant to her. And now that she would be going away to college in just a short while, she wanted to make the most the time they had left under the same roof. 

At eight-thirty she put the four-year-old to bed, reading him his customary bedtime story, and then made her way down to the living room to relax. She was especially tired today, having worked extra shifts at the library during the week. It cold get very warm and stuffy in the stacks where she was working out a new cataloguing system, despite the cooler temperatures that were beginning to appear outside now that summer was coming to a close. 

So, when she plopped down onto the recliner with a novel, it wasn't long before she drifted off into sleep, her book sliding closed, onto the carpet. She didn't know how much time had passed when she became aware of a slight tickling sensation across her bottom lip. Too tired to bother lifting her hand, she ran her tongue over the lip, hoping it would be enough. A moment passed before she felt it again, this time across her cheek. Now a little perturbed, she did lift the hand, and brushed it over the cheek absently. 

Then she heard a deep chuckle and her eyes shot open. Before she could scream, as she fully intended to do, a leather-clad hand clamped gently, yet firmly, over her mouth. 

"Now, now, Sarah. Wouldn't want to wake young Toby, would you?" 

When Sarah saw her unwelcome visitor, her panic died down, and all the anger she had been experiencing during the past week returned in full force. So she did the first thing that came to mind. 

She kicked Jareth in the shin. Hard. 

Not as hard as she would have liked to, given the angle at which her leg had been resting, but judging from the look on his face, certainly hard enough. 

Jareth fell back from her, a look of utter disbelief on his face, but it was quickly replaced by outrage. He immediately got to his feet. 

Sarah knew she should be frightened—one did not anger the Goblin King and live to tell about it. Yes, she _should_ be, but she was just too damn pissed to waste time on fear. 

"Sarah, that was most unwise," he growled. 

"Save it," she snapped in return, leaping up from her seat. "You've been spying on me," she accused, taking a step closer to him. "For the past three years, you've been watching me and invading my privacy." 

Suddenly, the angry glare gave way to the customary sardonic smile. It was amazing how quickly his emotions seemed to shift. "And why all the outrage now?" he asked, taking a step closer. "Why didn't you say anything at our last meeting?" Another step. "Could it have been because you had… other things on your mind?" he asked, leering at her suggestively. 

"In case you've forgotten," Sarah replied, gritting her teeth and holding her ground, "_You_ kissed _me_. _I_ didn't kiss _you_." God, how she wanted to just walk over there and smack that grin off his face. But in truth, she was held back by her fear of the mere idea of being so close to him. Instead, she had to rely on her words. "And if I remember correctly, I told you to leave me alone." 

"Yes, you did," Jareth conceded as he began to circle her within the living room. "But, as you yourself proved once not long ago, you are in the habit of saying things you don't mean." 

Deciding not to let herself be baited, she instead replied, "You're avoiding the original issue." 

"About me watching you? Yes, I have been in the habit of doing that from time to time," he answered unrepentantly. 

Sarah gawked in disbelief. Okay, it was bad enough that he'd been doing it, but he didn't even have the decency to look at least mildly contrite about it? When she could finally open her mouth to speak without sputtering incoherently, she asked, "What do you mean you've 'been in the habit of doing that from time to time'? What gives you the right to spy on me like that? How long have you been doing it?" Then, quieter, as if she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know the answer, "How _often_ have you been doing it?" 

"So many questions," Jareth declared in mock exasperation, taking a seat in the recently vacated recliner. "But I do distinctly remember you telling me to go away…" 

"Look, _Jareth_, we both know you're not going anywhere anytime soon," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. 

He raised one eyebrow, looking for the all the world as at home in the seat as he might in his own throne. "We do, do we? And how would we know that?" 

"Because," she replied, watching him with annoyance, "People don't sit down just before they leave." 

"Hmm, you forget, Sarah, that I don't need my feet to leave." And with that, he was gone. 

Sarah blinked, staring at the seat he had only a moment ago occupied. "Jareth? Jareth!" she hissed into the air. 

"Miss me already?" Warm breath grazed the back of her neck. 

To her credit, Sarah didn't scream, she didn't flinch, and she didn't run away. She did, however, turn around and kick him. Again. Boy, she was really glad she'd worn her runners tonight. 

But this time there was no shock in Jareth's face, only anger, simple and pure. "You really must stop doing that," he said through clenched teeth. 

Sarah gazed back at him unapologetically. "Must I?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh no, don't tell me," she continued, raising her hand to her mouth in mock horror, "I've angered you and now you're going to leave. Again." 

Abruptly, Jareth smiled, but it wasn't his usual mocking grin. No, this was much too predatory for that. In fact, mocking would have been a welcomed upgrade right about now. 

Sarah suddenly realized how close they still stood. She took a hopefully discrete step back. 

"You got my message, did you not?" 

The sudden shift in the conversation left his momentarily disconcerted. "Um, yeah." 

Forcing her to step back as he moved closer and closer, he asked in a husky whisper, "Should I show you just what I meant?" 

Not waiting for an answer, he tripped her up with a fluid motion, causing her to fall back in a manner that seemed to at least challenge the laws of gravity, if not openly defy them. She landed, rather gently, on the recliner, which had been subject to a great deal of activity in the last several minutes. Grudgingly, she thought had she performed that maneuver by herself, she would probably have ended up with a fair number of bruises. But all thoughts disappeared from her head when Jareth pressed down onto her. 

His mouth clamped down onto hers, while his left hand grazed her side, from her hip up to her breast. Vaguely, she wondered what the right one was up to, but that thought too left her as his tongue entered her mouth. 

Sarah realized, with some dismay, that try as she might, she couldn't seem to pull away from his mouth. Traitorous body. But at least she was not actively participating—her hands were not on any part of him, and her tongue was still waiting to be found in its game of hide-and-go-seek. It was like Gandhi with his nonviolent resistance, right? 

But even the weight of his body on top of her wasn't enough to keep her still when she felt Jareth's other, previously MIA, hand come up and cup the area between her legs. Despite two layers of jean and leather between them, she swore she could feel the heat from his flesh. It had to be the single most incredible sensation she had ever experienced, and it scared her beyond belief. 

This is wrong, wrong, wrong, her mind screamed at her. Even Michael had never touched her there, and only a week ago they had been prepared to have sex. Thinking of Michael suddenly brought up feelings of guilt and shame, allowing her to finally put an end to this. Her own hands came up and pushed up against Jareth's chest, hard enough to cause him to fall back so he rested on his knees before her. 

"Stop it," she hissed, her voice a mixture of pain and anger, shaky even to her own ears. "I want Michael, not you." 

Jareth watched her for a moment, face expressionless but for the waning desire, before responding. "If you choose to go back to that—boy—you'll be making a huge mistake." 

Sarah shook her head, angered by his words, confused by the feelings he was invoking in her. Anger won out. "The biggest mistake I ever made was saying the words that brought you into my life." 

Even in the dimly lit room, she could see the way his eyes darkened in response. Jaw clenched, he spoke, "So be it, Sarah. But maybe one day you'll see that the biggest mistake you ever made was saying the words that took me _out_ of your life." 

Then she was alone in the room, left to ponder the truth of what he'd just said. 

  
  
  


- END CHAPTER OF 5 - 


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I'm sorry about the long wait for this chapter. But RL seemed out to get me this last week. I just found out my computer's been infected with a virus, I registered for next semester and I couldn't get into any of the courses I wanted, and on top of that, my mouse decided to go kaput on me. All in all, it put me in a really bad mood, and I think I scared my muse off! But I'm better now. I was able to get into a couple of the courses that were previously full, the computer seems to be at least temporarily stable, and I'm going to take back the mouse to get it replaced. Again, my sincerest apologies. Please don't forget to review. It makes me feel really guilty when I don't update for a while.  


**Disclaimer:** You know, I'm gonna have to buy them just so I don't have to do this part every time. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans

**

- Chapter 6 - 

  
_In vino veritos.  
In wine there is truth._

--Proverb-- 

  
  
Sarah was miserable. She tried to tell herself it was because summer was ending and she was saddened by the inevitability of leaving behind her family, her friends, her job; that she was frightened by the prospect of "becoming an adult", living on her own and fending for herself in a strange new city. 

She tried to convince herself that it was anything but the fact that Jareth had decided to heed her wishes and exit her life permanently. 

That's what she _tried_ to tell herself, but after a while, living in a constant state of denial can be wearing on a person. Endless days passed from the night during which she'd inflicted upon him her harsh words. And through that time, not even a hint of his presence. She finally reached a point where she could stand it no more, and she admitted to herself that she missed the damn Goblin King. She cared for him, and she wanted him back in her life. 

But that changed nothing. He didn't return, and she wasn't provided with an opportunity to share her revelation with him. Which, in a way, was a relief because she didn't know how she would tell him such a thing even if she had the chance, and especially not after what she'd said at their last encounter. 

Admitting to someone that you loved them was putting yourself in a vulnerable position. And with anyone but Jareth, such vulnerability could be endured. With someone like Michael you knew you were safe. If you told him you loved him, he would return it, plain and simple, without any games. 

And along the train of thought, what was she supposed to do about Michael? He cared for her, she could see that easily, and in her own way she cared for him too. Enough so that she didn't want to see him hurt. He'd put up with so very much from her over the course of their relationship, the least of which had been this whole situation. 

She still felt guilty thinking about the way she'd treated Michael following that final encounter with Jareth. She'd informed him of the visit, but little more. "He won't be back. He so much as told me so." 

Understandably, Michael had been bothered by her refusal to elaborate. "But what did you say to him to make him change his mind?" 

"I don't remember the exact conversation," she'd snapped in return. A lie, actually, since she could think of nothing but that conversation, and the exact words she had spoken to drive him away. They'd run through her head hundreds of times since then, as she marveled at the extent of her own cruelty. So it seemed that Jareth had been right about her, after all. "Let's just drop it, alright? Put it behind us and move on." 

Being the guy that he was, Michael had done just as she'd said, despite his own trepidations. In the days to follow, she had continued to be difficult, moody, and withdrawn. So, to accommodate, he'd given her her space. 

Then Saturday had rolled around, a full week later, and her friends had convinced Sarah to one last night out together as a group. By next week, those who'd decided to go on to college, Sarah and Michael included, would be moving into their new homes, and everyone else would be moving on. The thought saddened her greatly. She would still have Michael; though they'd chosen to attend different schools, they would both be in the same city. It was both comforting and disappointing, that knowledge. 

Yet, what bothered her most was the feeling that once she left this place she would be forever leaving behind the Labyrinth and all its memories. She was moving on, and there was no room in her life anymore for a world of fantasy. And this upset her more than she ever would have expected. 

But on Saturday, with promises of good, light-hearted fun, she pushed all such thoughts to the back of her mind. 

"What's said is said," she told herself, using Jareth's own words. There was nothing to be done about the past—she had to live the life she'd chosen for herself. Better not to think of all the possibilities and the "what ifs." 

The doorbell rang and downstairs she heard someone going to answer it. She took one last look in the mirror, checking her makeup, and readjusting her skirt before she headed down to meet Michael. 

And she arrived not a minute too soon. Her father had apparently stumbled onto the topic of college and was in the early stages of the "you better take care of my little girl" speech. 

"It's a big city, and my Sarah's going to be on her own, without anyone to look after her"—he placed an arm over Michael's shoulders, pulling him in closer—"and I like you, son. I trust you and I think you're a fine young man. So I expect you to—" 

At this point Sarah burst into the room, using the momentary distraction to pull her boyfriend out of her father's grasp before he could continue any further. God knows how many times they were going to have to hear that speech and its many variations over the next week. 

"Thanks for keeping him entertained, dad," she spoke hurriedly, pulling Michael toward the door. "But we have to go. Everyone's waiting for us." Michael nodded his assent, just as eager to leave. 

"No problem, honey," her father replied, looking a little unbalanced with her whirlwind appearance and impending exit. "Oh, if you're going to be really late, please call and let us know." 

"Sure," Sarah replied, already halfway out of the house with Michael slightly ahead of her. She closed the door behind her and quickly made her way to his car. 

"Sorry about that," she told him once they had left her house a safe distance behind. 

Michael grinned, looking over at her, "Hey, that's nothing. You should hear all the speeches that my dad's been giving me over the past month. And mom keeps spontaneously bursting into tears at the strangest times. Last time I just asked her to wash my jeans for me, and there she was sobbing away like I'd just told her the dog had died." 

"Yeah, well, I guess I don't have to worry about that with Karen," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure she's ecstatic that I'm finally leaving the house." 

"I doubt it's that bad," he replied. "I mean, at the very least, she has to have kinda gotten used to having you around. It'll still be strange for her." 

"Great. I've been upgraded from a 'horrible, ungrateful stepdaughter' to an 'anticipated presence'." Michael looked like he was about to elaborate, but she interjected before he had a chance, "I know what you mean, and I know that you're trying to make me feel better. But the truth is, I really don't care how she feels. Hell, I'll be glad to get away from her," she grinned. But then she said more soberly, "I guess I'm just going to miss Toby, and dad, and… um, life here in general." She'd almost finished that differently. She glanced toward Michael, wondering if he'd noticed anything strange. He hadn't. 

You are not supposed to think about him, she scolded herself. Tonight is just for fun. But that train of thought was lost when they pulled up at her friend Julia's house and Sarah's door was flung open even before Michael had a chance to put the car in park. 

"Hey guys!" a vibrant voice greeted them. Julia immediately clambered over Sarah to get to the backseat. Michael's car was two-door and Julia apparently didn't believe in waiting for people to make way. 

"Jules!" Sarah's muffled voice called out as her friend somehow managed to wriggle her way into the car. 

"Sorry!" 

"No you're not," Michael said, laughing as Julia landed with a slight yelp. She, of course, popped back up a second later as if nothing had gone amiss. "If you were, you wouldn't keep doing it." 

Julia grinned back at him. "What can I say?" shrugging her shoulders innocently, her curly red hair bouncing with the movement. "I really wanna get out there and do some partying." 

Sarah found her friend's excitement infectious, and even before they arrived at the club and met up with the others, she'd forgotten all her previous worries. In fact, it was only toward the end of the night that her thoughts returned to the topics she had been trying to avoid. 

Begging off from the dancing in favor of a breather, she found herself sitting alone at a table. She laughed as she watched Julia dancing suggestively with Michael, or rather attempting to, since Michael appeared appropriately uncomfortable with the situation and kept backing away from her. Eventually, Julia gave up on him and turned to another of their friends, Derek, who seemed more than willing to play along. Michael, looking as if he had just been saved from the noose at the last moment, turned to leave the dance floor, only to find himself pulled back in by Sherry, yet another one of their group. Fortunately though, Sherry was more of a believer in personal space than Julia. 

Sarah smiled, taking another sip of her drink. She hadn't had too much throughout the night, just enough to take the edge off… and kept it off a couple of times over. Tomorrow, she knew, she would pay for it, but she let such qualms go unheeded because tonight they didn't matter. 

Suddenly she found her attention to the music, as the song shifted to something a little darker, moodier, taking her thoughts with it. 

_I think I slipped the net,  
But I cut myself free,  
I'm not losing yet,  
So don't forget me._

The woman's sultry voice drew her in and somehow she found herself thinking about Jareth. God, she was hopeless. She heard a sensual song, and he was all she could think about. 

_I'll say it, we play it, and try tomorrow  
I'll say it, we play it, and live with sorrow._

_You'd think I'd learn by now,  
There's never an easy way,  
I get through somehow,  
I'm on my knees to pray,_

She watched her glass because she was afraid to look up. She didn't want anyone around her to see the tears that were welling up in her eyes. All the thoughts and feelings she had successfully ignored during the night came crashing down on her. 

_You'd think I'd learn by now,  
There's never an easy way,  
I get through somehow,  
I'm on my knees._

This was stupid. It was the alcohol. She should have known better than to take a depressant when she was already feeling down. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, willing back the tears and trying to stop the well of feelings that assaulted her. 

_I'll admit I'm wrong,  
But I'm getting on track,  
I've been here too long,  
I'm under attack._

Why hadn't he returned? If Jareth knew her as well as he appeared to think he did, why? He should have known how she felt, and how difficult it would be for her to admit it. 

_I face it, replace it, and try to change,  
I face it, replace it, and rearrange._

"Hey." Sarah looked up into Michael's face. 

_You'd think I learned by now_

"Hi." 

Michael frowned, taking in her expression. "You okay?" 

_There's never an easy way_

"Fine." 

_I get through somehow,  
I'm on my knees to pray, _

On my knees to pray. 

"Um, it looks like everybody's getting ready to leave," he continued, looking toward his friends, who were trying to drag Julia off the dance floor. "You ready to go?" 

"Yeah, sure." She was glad about his timing. Her party mood had abruptly disappeared and she didn't think she could have endured the suddenly claustrophobic club much longer. 

Once outside in the cool night air, leaving behind the song and the feelings it had induced, Sarah felt somewhat better. Of course, it had at least a little to do with Julia, who, despite the lack of music, continued to dance all the way to the parking lot. "Sarah!" she suddenly exclaimed, grabbing her friend in a fierce hug. 

Sarah laughed. "Julia." 

"I'm gonna miss you girl!" she continued, pulling back slightly. "You have to come visit me every weekend." 

"Every weekend? That's a bit excessive, don't you think?" 

Julia appeared to ponder this in great depth. Finally, she conceded. "Alright, you come visit me every other weekend, and I'll come visit you on the ones between. 'Kay?" 

"Sure, Jules," Sarah replied, knowing that any agreement she might make now wouldn't be remembered by her friend come morning. 

"Great!" Julia exclaimed happily. Then, just as abruptly as the conversation had begun, it ended. "Mike!" Michael glanced up like a deer caught in the headlights as he saw the redhead hurdle through the air toward him. 

Sarah laughed, watching them. Julia sure was an upbeat drunk. After Michael, Julia turned to Derek, who nearly fell over from the force with which she leapt onto him. Finally Sherry, in her impatience to return home, pried her off him and dragged her toward Michael's car. 

"Sherry!" 

"Don't even start." 

When they pulled up to her house twenty minutes later, Julia was sound asleep in the backseat, snoring softly. Sarah fumbled with her seatbelt. "I'll help her to the door." 

Michael snorted in response. "Oh please. The blind leading the blind." He got out of the car and pulled his seat forward. 

"What are you talkin' about?" Sarah asked. "I'm not drunk." 

Michael chose to ignore her. "C'mon, Jules, time to get up." Shaking her gently, he began to pull her out of the car. 

Julia's hand came up, contacting Michael's face with an audible smack. "Five more minutes, mum, please?" she mumbled. Sarah giggled, and Michael glared at her in return. 

"You're not helping." 

"I would if I could, but apparently I'm too druuunk," she said with an exaggerated slur. She was graced with yet another glare. Jeez, she thought, Michael really needs to work on his glares. Compared to Jareth, he looked like an irritated puppy. 

She watched as he finally managed to pull the still-unconscious Julia out of the car and half drag, half carry her to the front door. Once there, he appeared to be presented with a dilemma since he couldn't rouse Julia to reveal the location of her key, and he didn't want to frisk her for it. 

He was saved, however, when the porch light snapped on and the front door opened to reveal Julia's younger sister. She took one look at the unconscious form, shook her head, and grabbed her sister's feet. With Michael supporting her upper body, his hands under her armpits, the three shuffled their way into the house in a comical manner. From inside the car, Sarah observed them, laughing until her sides ached. 

Several minutes later, Michael returned to the car. "Well, I'm not going to miss having to do that," he declared. 

"But it looks like sooo much fun," Sarah replied. 

Michael rolled his eyes. "Okay, time to get you home." Glancing over at her, he took note of the silly grin on her face and the glazed-over look in her eyes. "I hope I don't have to carry you too." 

"No, I don't wanna go home yet," Sarah said, shaking her head. "Let's go to your place." 

"My place?" 

"Sure. You said your parents were gone for the weekend, didn't you?" 

"Um, yeah." He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "But it's late. Your dad's going to be waiting for you." 

"No he won't," Sarah denied. "He trusts you. He figures you'll take care of his baby girl." She smiled and moved in close so their faces were mere inches apart. "You will, won't you?" 

"Sarah," he began. 

"Michael." 

"Look, you're drunk—" 

"Am not." 

"—and this isn't a good idea." 

"It's a perfectly fine idea." 

"I can't." 

Abruptly, she pulled back, her expression turning forlorn at the prospect of returning home to the thoughts that had been haunting her all week. "Please, Michael," she said, a pleading tone to her voice. "Just for a little while? Nothing has to happen… I just don't want to be alone right now." 

Michael rubbed a hand over his face as he tried to remain strong, but it was no use. It was mere moments before he gave in, just as he always did whenever Sarah asked him for something. "Alright. But nothing's going to happen." 

"Right." 

They were exactly two steps into his house before Sarah broke her end of the bargain. 

With surprise working more to her aid than strength, she managed to direct his fumbling steps backward onto the nearest couch. Unlike her prior experience, they did not land gracefully, but even that did nothing to faze her. She devoured Michael's mouth until they were both out of breath. 

"Sarah, no," he said finally, taking hold of her shoulders and pushing her away. He then pulled himself up into sitting position, trying to maintain as little contact with her body as possible. 

Sarah looked at him, disappointed. "Why not?" Then she smiled, running her hand up his chest. "You were all ready for it a week ago." 

"That was different," he replied, trying to ignore the feelings that she was stirring with her actions. "You weren't drunk." 

She frowned, but didn't remove her hand. "I'm not drunk now. 'Sides, I was ready last week too. And we would've done it then, if it weren't for…" she trailed off, lowering her gaze to the carpet. "If it weren't for things." 

The look on her face and his memories of that occasion—before it was interrupted—were weakening his determination. "Sarah," he sighed, putting a hand up to the side of her face. But he never had a chance to finish because suddenly he felt himself falling back onto the couch as Sarah attacked his mouth with a fervor she had never before displayed. For a moment he could only stare, wide-eyed, too surprised to even react. And then that moment passed and he couldn't have prevented his reaction, even if he'd tried. 

At that point, his resolve shattered completely, and he flipped her on the couch so that he lay on top. Sarah let out a gasp at his actions before her hands drifted over his back and she pulled him closer. Emboldened by her reaction, Michael slipped a hand up her sweater while simultaneously shifting his body so he was positioned between her legs. Her skirt rode precariously up her thighs, leaving only the delicate material of her panties as protection. 

Sarah was reminded of another night, on another couch, and her mind drifted to that time as if it had never ended. She clung to the body above hers in desperation, needing to recreate what she had felt during that all-too-brief occasion. She let her hands roam boldly and responded to his touches with a passion she had denied herself then. 

Not bothering with the clasp, Michael pulled down the cup of her bra, letting his fingers graze the flesh as he did so. His mouth trailed across her neck in a downward decent, while his other hand pushed up the material of her sweater for the next inevitable step. 

Her mind hazy with desire and alcohol, Sarah groaned as she felt the air hit her exposed chest, only to be followed by the feel of his warm breath as he hovered momentarily above her. She arched her back, both hands reaching up to grab his head, and even before she realized she'd opened her mouth, she moaned in a voice thick with lust. "Jareth…" 

  
  
  


- END OF PART 6 -

  
  
**A/N (again!):**** The song is "Never An Easy Way" by Morcheeba. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Why do I get the feeling that nobody likes Michael? C'mon, he's not that bad, is he? Maybe he and Sarah are meant for each other . What, nobody's rootin' for Michael&Sarah? … How about Michael&Jareth? I'm just exploring the possibilities! 

**Disclaimer:** I put my bid in, but I'm still waiting on the results. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans

**

- Chapter 7 - 

  
_What after all  
Is a halo? It's only one more thing to keep clean._

--Christopher Fry, The Lady's Not For Burning-- 

  
  
Michael pulled his head back sharply, looking at his girlfriend's face in disbelief. 

"Okay, first of all, what? Secondly, what? And third, WHAT?!" 

Sarah stared back at him mutely, the enormity of her mistake just dawning on her. Something told her this was not going to go over well. It was just one of those things that guys seemed to have hard time dealing with, fragile egos and all. 

"Michael—" 

"Oh, so you remember now?" 

"I don't know… what… I mean… I _didn't_ mean… I'm sorry?" Wow, she knew alcohol destroyed brain cells, but she was certain she couldn't have destroyed so many in a single night. 

Michael sat up on the couch, untangling his limbs from hers, and Sarah hastily reached up to pull her sweater back into place before she followed him. 

"Um…" So, what are you supposed to say in a situation like this? "Look, Michael, I'm… that was so…" Her mouth opened and closed a few more times before she finally accepted the fact that there wasn't anything she could say to make amends for what she'd done. 

The awkward silence was finally broken by Michael's bitter laugh. "Funny how this guy keeps coming between us when we get to this stage. And this time, he didn't even have to show up." 

"Michael…" 

"I think I should take you home, Sarah," he said quietly, staring down at his hands. 

Sarah sighed. It seemed that she had a penchant for saying the perfectly wrong thing in every situation. "Alright." 

The ride home was long and quiet, unbearably so. She supposed she would have felt better if Michael had gotten angry, said something spiteful that would cause her pain and ease her conscience. But he didn't. He just watched the road in silence, seemingly far too engrossed in the whole task of driving to comment on anything else. 

When they pulled up in her driveway, she tried once again to engage him in some sort of conversation. "Michael—" 

"Not now," he interrupted, but not harshly. "You just get some sleep, and we'll talk about his later when—you're feeling better." 

Suddenly very sober and very tired, Sarah managed to make her way to her room without waking anyone up. It was late, but not too late, and her dad had apparently already headed off to bed in testimony of his faith in her. Or maybe his faith in Michael. Yes, that would certainly make more sense, because right now she felt anything but worthy of such confidence. 

She rubbed her temples and emitted a groan as she felt the onset of the headache she would be babysitting tomorrow. Kicking off her shoes and hastily exchanging her skirt and sweater for her pajamas, she flopped facedown into the softness of her bed. Her voice muffled by the pillow beneath it, she muttered, "Damn you, Jareth." And then she was out. 

Moments later, or so it seemed, Sarah felt herself being shook awake. "Sawah." 

"Ludo?" she mumbled, confused. But the voice was much higher, younger, and the touch much too light for a body of that size. Sarah turned her head, opening bloodshot eyes to find herself looking into the baby blues of her younger brother. 

"No. Toby." 

"Toby? What is it?" she asked, sitting up in alarm. Her instinct told her that something must be wrong, or why else would her brother be waking her up in the middle of the night? 

"Mum says you have to get up. She says you can't stay in bed all day." 

"All day? What is she talking about, I just went to bed," Sarah exclaimed before she glanced around the room and found herself staring out the window at the bright blue sky. "Oh. What time is it?" 

"Um, one… four… forty—three!" Toby announced proudly as he read off his sister's alarm clock. 

"One-forty-three?" Sarah repeated, blinking in surprise. 

"Uh-huh." 

"Um," she rubbed her eyes again, "Did Michael call for me?" 

"Nuh-uh." 

Sarah sighed and lay back down on her bed. Even the alcohol she'd consumed and the hangover she was currently enduring weren't enough to suppress the memories of the prior night. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to quash the emotions and the nausea that rolled over her in alternating waves. 

Suddenly, she felt a small hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and gazed into her Toby's solemn eyes. "How come you're so sad, Sarah?" 

Startled, it took a moment for her to reply. "What makes you think I'm sad?" 

Toby stared back at her, his nose scrunched up in that adorable manner that conveyed he was perplexed by the question. "'Cause you _look_ sad," he finally replied. 

Sarah stared at her brother and wondered what kind of answer she was supposed to give a four-year-old who would pose such a serious question. "I guess," she said slowly, "I'm sad because I said something to someone and now I feel really bad about it." 

"Why don't you just say you're sorry?" 

"Because, sometimes, it can be really hard to say you're sorry, or to make that person believe that you actually mean it." 

Toby pondered this statement a moment, trying to present his sister with a solution that would put an end to her pain. "Yeah, I guess I know what you mean." Then he continued as an idea dawned in his mind, "Sometimes, when I'm sorry, instead of saying it, I do something. Like, with mommy, I give her flowers, or something. It always makes her like me again." 

Sarah watched him thoughtfully, surprised by the maturity of his advice despite his few years. Then a solution began to form inside her head, and she graced Toby with a beatific smile. "Thanks, Tobe," she said, ruffling his blond hair. "You're a great brother, you know?" 

Toby smiled back proudly. "Yeah, I know." 

When Toby left her, Sarah dragged herself out of bed and into her bathroom. Taking one look into the mirror, she decided all plans of putting things right would have to wait until later. For now, she had to concentrate on the task of making herself look at least vaguely human again. 

Her eyes were red and puffy with dark circles, her face pale and drawn—a testament to the monster headache she was currently experiencing—and her hair was matted in a strange manner from all the products she had applied to it the night before. But nothing a long shower, a few extra-strength Tylenol, and a lifelong abstinence from alcohol wouldn't fix. 

  


~*~

  
Both her father and stepmother determined the cause of her haggard appearance immediately upon seeing her. However, neither commented upon it. Her father, she assumed, because it was her last week at home and she was an adult now, responsible for making her own decisions; Karen, on the other hand, because of the explicit request from her husband to cut Sarah some slack for their remaining time together. Of course, Karen did not see this as extending to housework, for despite Sarah's condition and her impending departure, she was required to complete all her usual chores. 

By the time she had finished with everything, the Tylenol had long since done its job, and she was feeling much better. Physically, at least. 

Michael hadn't called all day, not that she could blame him. After all, it was her grievous mistake responsible for their current circumstance, and she should be the one to make the first move. 

But it was only later that evening, after a second refreshing shower, that Sarah decided to act upon the advice she had received from her brother earlier that day. Sitting on her bed in a t-shirt and shorts combo, she stared into her vanity mirror as she ran her fingers through her drying hair. 

These things were easier said than done. But nevertheless, they had to be done. 

Finally, gathering her resolve, she pulled herself together and called out in a voice steadier than she would have thought possible, "Jareth, I need you." 

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 7 - 


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I just got the results yesterday… apparently they are NOT for sale, as Mr. Henson's estate made perfectly clear to me. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans

**

- Chapter 8 - 

  
_We always have a choice  
Or at least I think we do  
We can always use our voice  
I thought this to be true _

We can live in fear  
Extend ourselves to love  
We can fall below  
Or lift ourselves above 

Fear can stop you lovin'  
Love can stop your fear  
Fear can stop you lovin'  
But it's not always that clear 

--Morcheeba, "Fear and Love"-- 

  
  
"Need me for what?" 

Remaining on her bed, Sarah spun in the direction of his voice, and found Jareth leaning casually against her windowsill. For once, couldn't the man appear right in front of her? The element of surprise was one thing, but it didn't apply when she had just called for him. 

Despite the poise of indifference, Sarah could almost detect a glimpse of emotion seeping through his mask. But she realized he was not going to make this easy for her. And after what she'd said to him at their last meeting, that was hardly unexpected. 

"Hello, Jareth," she said softly. 

"Hello, Sarah," he replied, coming forward. "You didn't answer my question." 

Sarah shrugged and gave him a wry grin, trying to ignore the instinct to shrink away as he moved closer. Not out of disgust, not out of fear—well actually, yes, out of fear, but not fear of him. "And you never answer any of mine. I thought I'd go for a little equal treatment." 

Jareth watched her intently, obviously trying to read through her apparently casual demeanor. By now he stood only just outside of her reach, his amazingly intense eyes boring into hers. "Why did you call me?" His voice was soft and low, his expression serious though it betrayed no emotion. 

Sarah's heart thudded in her chest, so loud that she was almost sure he could hear it. She swallowed thickly and glanced at the closed bedroom door before returning her eyes to his. It wouldn't do to have interruptions. "Can we do—this somewhere else?" 

Without Jareth ever looking away from her face, she felt a slight shift in the air and found herself sitting in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed. "Better?" 

Something about him was different, so unlike all those previous encounters. He had never been so accommodating, and once upon a time he would have half-driven her up the wall with his riddled words and arrogant smile before he finally did comply. Well, Sarah supposed, glancing about the alien surroundings, circumstances had changed. 

To answer his question, she merely nodded. Then taking in the giant, lavishly furnished setting, she realized that they had to be in Jareth's bedroom. Which meant she was currently sitting on Jareth's bed. Her eyes widened slightly at the thought. 

At her almost imperceptible reaction, she thought she saw his eyes sparkle with amusement, as if he were laughing at her without ever betraying the seriousness of his pose. Rather than dwell on it though, and react as she normally would—and as no doubt he expected her to—she cleared her throat and began. 

"I'm sorry." That hint of humor that had previously occupied his face disappeared, to be replaced by another expression, that of surprise. Grudgingly, Sarah wondered what sort f person he thought she was that she should be incapable of admitting she was wrong. "About what I said… last time. And how I treated you." 

"And?" Even the surprise was gone now, and it was as if her words had had no effect on him. She may as well have commented on the weather. 

"And you were right." 

"About?" 

Sarah glared at him. If he wanted to hear what she was trying to say, he could at least be more accommodating about it. And she had the feeling that he knew just how difficult this all was for her, which is why she answered in the manner that she did. "I love you, you idiot!" 

And then there was a moment, an eternally long moment during which the implications of what she'd said sunk in for both of them. Real subtle, Sarah mentally berated herself as she looked away and forced herself not to bury her face in her hands. There were certainly better ways this could have gone. A little less angrily, possibly even with a little romance… But, what's said is said. The rest was up to Jareth. 

Speaking of whom—she glanced back up at his face, anticipation forcing her to push aside her own reflections. He was utterly unreadable and his lack of response thus far was starting to get to her. She began to wonder if it weren't already too late, and as her whole plan came into question, she felt despair begin seeping in. 

But abruptly, Jareth crossed the remaining few feet between them and dropped down to his knees before her. It left him just slightly below eye-level to her. "Sarah," he breathed, some of that mask beginning to slip away. "I was beginning to think you'd never admit your feelings, that you'd stay away forever just to prove me wrong." 

The relief she felt upon hearing his words was overwhelming, and the devastation of almost losing something that had never truly had a chance to begin was quickly replaced by a feeling of wonder. 

So she did the only thing that came to mind as she stared at his face so close—she grasped his head with both hands and pulled him forward into a deep kiss. But it was no innocent kiss—it didn't even start out that way. It was wild and mad and passionate, everything she had been denying both him and herself. 

It wasn't long before they tumbled back onto the bed, with her leading the way and Jareth rising up from his knees to follow her. The dark satin sheets reached up to accommodate them and she found herself lost in a sea of sensation between the sheets beneath her, the silky blond hair in her hands, and the feel of Jareth's hard body on top of her. 

When he didn't move to next step fast enough for her, Sarah, growing bold from desire, took on of his hands in her own and placed it on her breast sure he could feel the hardened point in his palm, even through the material of his glove. Meanwhile, her legs came up and wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, all-the-while her lips never parting from that delicious mouth. 

"Sarah," he groaned, his words lost into her mouth, creating a slight vibration that caused her tongue to tingle. 

She snaked out her tongue and ran it along his lower lip, and reveled in the moan he let out in response. Her hands reached up and began tugging at the buttons of his shirt, unconcerned as to whether she was undoing them or merely tearing them off. Already, her mind was wandering to the issue of his pants. Did they have a fly or something… how in world was she supposed to get them off of him? v "Sarah," he repeated more insistently, pulling back from her mouth. "Stop." His hands moved to still hers and in confusion she stared up at him, eyes still hazy with desire, mind uncomprehending as to why he'd halted, and legs still wrapped about his waist. 

"What?" she asked, her tone conveying just a degree of annoyance. 

Jareth gently pried her legs from his waist, and lifted himself out of the embrace to stand at the foot of the bed. "Now isn't the right time for this," he replied. 

_What?_ "Why not?" 

Jareth sighed in response. "We have to talk." 

Sarah blinked. "_Now_ you want to talk?" 

"Sarah—" 

"No, don't 'Sarah' me," she interjected, sitting up on the bed and moving back a few feet to put distance between them. "When I was with Michael—" part of her enjoyed the grimace that name produced in him "—the thought of talking didn't even cross your mind. You seemed to think then it was the perfect time for _this_. But now, when I pretty much throw myself at you, you suddenly decide we should have a little get-to-know-you session!" 

"Sarah," Jareth replied, properly rebuked by her words, but still adamant in his decision. "In the time since our last encounter I've had the opportunity to reflect upon the way I was behaving, and now I realize I was going about it in the wrong way." 

"So, what you're saying is that you were wrong then, but you're right now?" 

Jareth made as if to reach for, but Sarah pulled away. The last thing she needed was to be near him, touching him, if all he wanted to do was talk. Especially since his shirt was still almost open in testament to her impatient handiwork. She groaned, falling back against the soft bed in frustration. "How many guys do I have to try to seduce before someone will have sex with me?!" 

Oops. She regretted the words as soon as they were past her lips. Since he had stopped looking in on her, Jareth would have had no idea about what had happened between her and Michael the other night, and it probably would have been better if it stayed that way. 

"Sarah?" his voice was a low growl and she refused to look at him. But of course, Jareth would have none of that and he grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her down the length of the bed until she was staring directly up into his face. The movement caused her t-shirt to ride up to just below her breasts and she remembered that she hadn't bothered with a bra after her shower. From the expression on his face, it was clear that Jareth was consciously attempting to ignore that fact and not altogether succeeding. 

But still, there were other pressing matters at hand, which he seemed determined to attend to first. His gaze was ungiving as he stared down into her face in obvious expectation of answers. 

Sarah gave him a shaky, lop-sided grin. "Can't we just pretend I never said that?" 

"No we can't," he replied, leaning over her ominously, a hand placed on either side of her shoulders. 

She felt herself torn between the apprehension at his demeanor and the lust she couldn't help but experience with such physical proximity. But then again, hadn't he made it abundantly clear that he felt the same desire when he was near her? A genuinely wicked smile curved Sarah's lips as she decided to use this knowledge to her advantage. 

"Jareth…" she said, her voice low and husky. And in that moment, as his eyes widened and all previous anger fled his face, it was clear he'd realized that he had just worked his way into a trap of his own making. 

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 8 - 


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Hello, hello, to all you readers. As we near the end of this little journey, I'd just like to say thank you for all your reviews and support. Well, here's the chapter I know you've all been waiting for… but let me first just reinstate the R-rating! _"Smut, smut, smut!"_ a gaggle of voices screams out.> Woah, hold on there… I tried, but I don't know how smutty this really is. I'm afraid I don't have any prior experience in that sort of writing, and although I sure can read it, the thought of _writing_ it makes me wanna run to my room to bury my head in a pillow. 

**Disclaimer:** I'm almost done anyway, so I promise to put them back before anyone realizes they're gone. 

  
  
  
**

Best Laid Plans

**

- Chapter 9 - 

  
_Lights off  
Time to set this party off  
Baby pull down the shades  
They're gonna be like that for days  
Clothes off  
For a private dance tonight  
I wanna take you down horny street tonight  
_

Baby let's keep it private cause  
Were getting ready to ride it  
Ecstasy on the balcony  
Going down for more on the kitchen floor  
Slipping and sliding  
I want you to ride it  
On my knees I'll have you screaming wait, wait, wait,  
Don't let it go 

Don't you wanna come along for the  
Ride of your life (somebody)  
Somebody's gotta be on top  
Cocoa butter skin I can't wait till I get in  
Your body  
Somebody's gotta be on top 

--Joe, "Somebody Gotta Be On Top"-- 

  
  
Sarah grasped the collars of his shirt with both hands, pulling at them and giving him no choice but to follow the path to the bed. Just as he seemed resigned to his fate and his lips moved in to meet hers, she twisted her body and rolled them both across the bed so that she was on top, straddling his waist. For a moment she remained as she was, staring down into his bewildered expression. Certainly, this wasn't the side of Sarah he had expected to see—hell, it wasn't even a side of her that she had believed existed. But it was one that she had decided she enjoyed. 

With a smile serving as her only warning, she suddenly reached down and ripped open his shirt, sending the few remaining buttons flying in various directions. "And these are going to have to go," she murmured, pulling off his black leather gloves and tossing them aside. Then running her hands over his smooth chest, she leaned forward to kiss him. When she pulled back, she saw the familiar smile settling on his lips and the sudden shift in his demeanor caused her heart to leap to her throat. 

"Equal treatment, Sarah," he whispered, and before she could even contemplate the meaning of his words, she was on her back again. And her t-shirt was gone. He hadn't even taken it off, just magicked it away. 

"That's not fair!" she replied with a slight, unconscious pout. After she had to work so hard to get his off him the old-fashioned way, he took the easy way out! 

His deep rumbling laughter accompanied his next words, "Then I wonder how you'll feel about this." Now her shorts were gone. 

Suddenly realizing that she was dressed in only her panties, Sarah blushed a mild shade of red. The bravado that had brought her this far was starting to crumble. But still, she had come too far to walk away now. With a small, shy smile, she replied, "Equal treatment." 

A smirk on his face, he leaned back away from her. "My pleasure." 

The next thought to enter Sarah's mind was, Oh my god, he doesn't wear underwear! Not that, if she really stopped to think about it, she believed that he would, but the fact was that she _hadn't_ stopped to think. Hence, she was not quite prepared to see—that. The shock was more than evident on her face, and she couldn't help but stare. 

When Sarah realized that Jareth was finding a great deal of amusement at her reaction, she snapped her mouth shut and pulled her eyes away, up to his face. 

With a mock repentant expression, he remarked, "It looks like I got a step ahead of myself." He reached down and hooked his thumbs in the waist of her panties. Just as it looked as if he were going to pull them down, he abruptly tore the material right off her and tossed it aside. Cocking his head slightly to one side, he glanced at her and asked, "Better?" 

If it weren't for the butterflies that had invaded her stomach over the course of the past five minutes, Sarah would have laughed at the question. Instead she only gulped and stared back at him with wide eyes. 

Jareth paused, taking in her expression and the sudden shift in attitude. "Why so suddenly shy?" he asked, his desire even more evident now that he was naked. 

Sarah shook her head. "I'm just…" but her voice died out as she realized that she didn't have the words to explain how she felt. 

"Afraid?" 

She wanted to deny that, she didn't want to admit to such a weakness. But they were no longer in the Labyrinth, no longer opponents, and there was no reason to put up false fronts. "A little," she replied. 

"Sarah," he said softly, "There's no reason to be afraid anymore." As she stared into his eyes, filled with an expression she had never before seen there, filled with love, she found it easy to believe him. 

She reached up with her arms, and wrapped them about his neck, pulling him closer. "Show me," she whispered. "Show me how not to be afraid." 

Letting himself be drawn down, he said again, "My pleasure." As their lips met, his hands slid down her body, one to rest against the curve of her hip, and the other to cup a breast, thumb grazing against an already-erect nipple. Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he continued kissing her, his tongue exploring her with gentle insistence until she returned in kind. 

Slowly, his lips began to descend, placing open-mouthed kisses along her neck and the length of her collarbone. Everywhere he passed, he left behind a wet trail of tingling flesh. By the time he reached the top of her breasts, Sarah's breath was coming in small panting gasps, and her chest heaved with the effort. When his mouth replaced his recently departed thumb, she arched her back and cried out. 

He teased her with lips, tongue, and teeth, moving from one breast to the other until she was little more than a quivering pile of nerves and vocal chords. Her hands clutched desperately at the silky blond hair, and some time during the whole affair her legs had managed to wrap themselves around him once again. She found herself unconsciously thrusting against him in perfect rhythm to the movements of his mouth. 

When he finally turned his attention from her breasts, it was like when he'd pulled away to "talk", only a hundred times worse. Opening her eyes to see why he'd stopped, she found him gazing back at her, his eyes so darkened with passion they were nearly black. At that contact he abruptly entered her, causing Sarah to cry out from the shock of it. With one more sudden movement, he buried himself completely within her, and when the searing pain hit her, it was all she could do not to scream. 

Immediately Jareth stilled his movements, and as he looked down into her face, his expression one of concern, he kissed away the few tears that had managed to make their way down her cheeks. 

"Are you alright?" 

Swallowing a sob, Sarah nodded. She wasn't really; all the lust, the passion, and desire had all but deserted her in the past thirty seconds. But somehow she was of the belief that such an answer would have been inappropriate in the present circumstances. 

Still Jareth restrained himself to kisses along her face and mouth, his hands gentle and seductive on her body, causing the feelings that had been lost to rebuild. Finally the pain receded and she squirmed under him. "You can, um, move now," Sarah told him, a slight flush appearing along her body. 

Jareth smiled at the discomfort that was no longer pain. "As you wish," he replied, laying a simple, closed-mouth kiss on her lips before he obligingly pulled out and thrust back in. 

This time Sarah's cry was of a completely different nature. It was hard to believe that this same motion had caused so much agony only moments earlier, but she found herself unable to dwell on the fact as he repeated his actions. 

Jareth continued his movements at an ever-increasing pace and soon Sarah was returning his thrusts with her own. She was enveloped in a warmth that defied the temperature of the room, sweat breaking out along the length of her body and mingling with the salty liquid that fell from his. Her hands clutched at empty air above her head, until his reached up to join them, their fingers entwining in an intimate embrace. 

The tempo increased, faster and faster, her eyes fluttering open to find him staring down at her. And she couldn't look away, not even if she had wanted to. But why would she want to? 

Then, overcome by a sensation she could never hope to capture in words, she abruptly tensed, her body arching up as much as his would allow. It was as if her world was falling down around her, and on her lips was the name that was always meant to be there, which she screamed it out with abandon in her ecstasy, "Jareth!" 

  
  
  


- END OF CHAPTER 9 - 

  
  
**A/N:** Before you say anything, let me just tell you all why I wrote this scene the way that I did. I've read a lot of fics where Jareth seduces Sarah (well, it _is_ in character), but I was really intrigued by the idea that when it came down to it, what if it were the other way around? Hell, why not. Besides, it gives her a form of power in the relationship that she wouldn't have if it were the other way around. I mean, she's always seemed (to me, at least) afraid of "giving in", and this was a way that I could see them ending up together without her doing just that. Okay, enough of my opinion, please tell me what you think. 


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Hello, hello, to all you readers. As we come to the end of this little journey, I'd just like to say thank you for all your reviews and support (I broke 100!). They kept me diligent, and determined to see this thing through to completion. **

  
  
  
Best Laid Plans

**

- Chapter 10 - 

  
_Now that we're done what are you thinking  
Body so soft just can't stop thinking  
You touch me there  
Now what are you thinking  
Now that we're done what are you thinking  
Body so soft just can't stop thinking  
Here comes the sun  
Now what are you thinking _

Can't believe how this feels  
Feeling is unreal  
Feeling is unreal  
Got to know now that we're done  
Now  
That  
We're  
Done  
Can we do it again n' again n' again n' again 

--112, "Now That We're Done"-- 

  
  
Sleep was not high on Sarah's list of priorities, but eventually, she found herself succumbing to it nevertheless. When she awoke, she presumed that it was morning, though there were no uncovered windows in the bedroom to allow her to confirm it. With a sense of exhilaration, she realized that she had spent the night in Jareth's arms. They hadn't made love again after that first time. Jareth had held back, advising her that it was best if they waited. Now, feeling the soreness that had already invaded her body, she understood the reason for his caution. 

Wiping away the sleep from her eyes, she turned her head and glanced up from the bare chest on which it was resting. "Good morning," she heard, feeling the impact of the words beneath her cheek. 

"Morning," she replied, smiling lazily. 

Morning. Suddenly, Sarah sat up, remembering to clutch the satin sheet to her body. "Oh my god! Morning!" Crawling to one edge of the bed, she scanned the floor feverishly. "What about my family? My dad? How am I going to explain where I was last night?" 

Desperately, she searched the area for her clothes, wondering where they had gone during the previous night's activities. Then she remembered how Jareth had removed them, and that she never did see where they went. 

Before she could react any further, however, she felt an arm enclose her waist from behind and she was pulled back to the center of the bed. "Sarah," the smooth voice consoled her, "It's quite early, and your family is still asleep. No one has even noticed your absence." 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Sarah let herself relax into the body behind her. However, the state of calm didn't last long, as she further contemplated his words. Eyes narrowing, she turned to face him. "Spying again—" but abruptly she stopped and her expression changed as her previous thoughts escaped her. Then she burst into laughter. 

Jareth watched her, a small frown forming on his face. "And what, may I enquire, is so amusing?" he asked, annoyance lacing his words. 

Between panting breaths and spasmodic laughter, Sarah managed to say, "You have the worst case of bed-head I have ever seen!" 

Self-consciously, Jareth ran a hand over his hair, managing to tame some of the wild mess with the gesture. "Really, Sarah," he said reproachfully, "I thought we had more pressing matters to attend to." 

She could not stop the escaping giggles and too late she realized her mistake. Despite the change in the nature of their relationship, Jareth was still the Goblin King, and as such, he did not take well to being the source of her amusement. Her laughter cut off unexpectedly when she found herself lying on her back, the protective sheet snatched away from her body. 

"So glad I could entertain you," Jareth purred against the smooth skin of her stomach. "Perhaps now you would like to return the favor." 

When his tongue reached out and flicked across her navel, surprise caused her to automatically lurch a few crucial inches up the length of the bed. Crucial, because the movement only drew him closer to another inevitable destination. As his lips began tracing agonizingly slow kisses down her abdomen, Sarah felt herself losing hold of her prior concerns, but not before she managed to gasp out, "Now… is… not… the… right… time." 

One final, lingering kiss and abruptly Jareth pulled away. She had never felt so relieved and disappointed both at once. "Of course, you're right," he said as he looked down at her. Flushed, bewildered, and completely naked, for a long moment Sarah could only stare back. 

Finally, he reached down and, grasping her hands, pulled her into a sitting position. "Sarah, it's time for that talk," he said, his face serious, all signs of the earlier passion having disappeared. 

"Talk?" she managed to parrot, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. 

"Yes. The one we were supposed to have last night before you managed to—distract me." 

"Oh." Sarah felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She supposed it would have been asking too much if he were to have just completely forgotten about that. 

Arms folding over his chest, "Care to explain yourself?" 

No, not really. But she had a feeling that Jareth wouldn't find that response quite to his satisfaction. So instead, she shrugged and replied, "There's not much to say." Of course, he waited for elaboration. "I went out with Michael the other night, I had too much to drink. And when we were, um… progressing, I—" she paused, biting her lip and feeling her cheeks burn with the confession. 

"You…?" he prompted. 

"I called out your name," she quickly blurted out and turned her eyes down to her hands, which were suddenly the most fascinating things in the world. 

There was a long pause and Sarah waited, wondering what thoughts were going through Jareth's head. Oddly, she wasn't sure what was worse to admit to: what she'd (again) almost done with Michael, or the fact that she had called out his name. But she did know that neither was as bad as the wait. Finally, just when she thought she could take no more of the silence, he asked, "What made you change your mind… about me?" 

Expecting a response to her own admission, Sarah was caught off guard by his question. Now it was her turn to extend the silence as she pondered the answer. "I suppose," she began slowly, the thoughts still forming in her head, "I never really changed my mind. I only learned to accept the truth." When she saw the questioning look on his face, she continued, "I don't think I ever really hated you." As strange as that seemed, she realized the truth of her statement now. "At first, you put me through the Labyrinth… how could I hate you when I didn't even know you? I was angry, yes, and afraid, but there wasn't any hate. But in the three years that you were gone—or I guess I should say, in the three years that _I_ didn't _see_ you—" Jareth had the decency to look repentant "—I had a chance to think things through and, I suppose, come to understand you at a level I never had before. I just couldn't keep pretending that you were the monster that I needed you to be at the time." 

"And what of this whole thing with—Michael?" Even now, Sarah could see he had difficulty saying the name. 

"Michael's a sweet guy—he is," she insisted as she saw the reactive expression that entered his face, "And if you looked past the jealousy, you would be able to see that." 

"You're one to talk about jealousy. Isn't that what brought you to my door in the first place?" he asked, a smug grin on his face. 

Sarah sent him a glare, but found it impossible to maintain. "No, it's what brought _you_ to _my_ door," she replied with an answering smile. But all joking aside, she had a question to finish answering. "Michael was because I wanted something normal… I wanted to believe that everything was all right, that my life was fine. But he only proved that it wasn't because he didn't make me feel the way you make me feel," she said softly. "You make me feel different, special… There's just something about the way you…" she trailed off, unsure of how to complete the statement and flustered by her own thoughts. 

"What?" he prodded gently. Gentle, but insistent. He wanted what he wanted, and he could never take no for an answer. 

"I like the way you say my name." Jareth arched one eyebrow in response, and Sarah blushed, rushing to elaborate. "I mean, you don't say it the way that everyone else does. 

You say it like… like it's something meant to be savored." Oh wow, did she just say that out loud? When she realized exactly what she'd spoken, and the implications of the statement, she flushed an even deeper shade of red. But Jareth seemed rather bemused by her confession. 

"Sarah," he replied, his voice sending shivers up her spine, "Everything about you was meant to be savored." When she looked up into his eyes, she saw a hunger there that caused goose bumps along her flesh. 

And then she found herself being forced back down onto the bed by his movements, first to rest on her elbows, then completely flat on her back. "I thought you said we had to talk," Sarah whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from his. 

"Enough talk. There are other things I'd rather be doing right now." 

"Such as?" she inquired, laughter dancing in her eyes though her mouth remained serious. 

"Such as this," he replied, in one swift movement dropping down to his original destination. And all coherent thought left Sarah's mind. 

  


~*~

  
Sarah stared anxiously into the sea-green eyes before her, just barely managing to keep from running out of the room and back into the arms of her newfound love. Besides, she couldn't leave—this was _her_ bedroom. Though she had thought confessing her true feelings to Jareth would be difficult, the present task was far more torturous for both parties involved. 

"You're what?" Michael replied, dumbfounded. 

"Michael," she began, her own anguish apparent in her voice, "This is no reflection on you. You're a great guy, you really are… but I love Jareth—" 

"But I don't understand," he interrupted. "From what I've heard, he's given you nothing but pain. You made it sound as if you hated him, that you wanted nothing to do with him. Hell, Sarah, the guy was spying on you for the past three years." A slight pause, and then, almost as an afterthought, "And what is with that hair—he looks like a freakin' life-sized troll doll!" 

Sarah frowned but decided to let the comment pass. After all, they had been dating for over six months and now she was leaving him for another guy, so he had a right to be upset. And now that she thought about it, he was kind of right. "Um, hairstyle aside, I know I made him out to be this horrible monster… but the truth is, I didn't tell you _everything_. And what I did tell you was more than a little distorted by the anger I was still feeling at the time." 

Michael glanced away, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Then he turned back, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "Did something happen between you two before? Is that why you were acting so strange when you told me that he wouldn't be coming back?" 

Sarah sighed and decided to stick to a half-truth, a response that told him what he needed to know without causing unnecessary anguish. "Sort of. More words than anything else. He just gave me some things to think about." 

Nodding, another pause. Already she could see the defeated look of acceptance in his eyes. He was a man who knew when to quit. "Just tell me one thing, and I want you to be completely honest," he said. Sarah nodded. Anything. "Was there something that I could have done along the way to change your mind?" 

Frowning, she replied, "No, no there wasn't. I suppose this was a long time coming. Once he came back—I suppose the rest was inevitable." 

After a long silence, Michael let out a sigh, the defeat complete as he realized how futile his arguments would prove. Finally, cupping her chin in one hand, he looked into her eyes, his own shining with his sincerity. "I love you, Sarah, I really do. I just wanted you to know that. But this Jareth must love you more." He smiled at her wryly, "I mean, I won't be coming back here three years from now, determined to win you over." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I hope this makes you happy. I hope he makes you happy." 

There was nothing left to say, so he left, and Sarah watched him go with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. 

"I must admit, I misjudged him," a melodic voice intoned from behind her, several moments later. 

"You watched that?" Sarah inquired, turning to face Jareth and she found herself back in his castle, standing before him in his bedroom (or maybe their bedroom now). But her words were unaccusing and held no trace of anger. In truth, she hoped it would allow Jareth to move past the resentment he felt toward Michael for what had almost happened between he and Sarah. 

"You didn't say not to," Jareth replied, coming forward to wipe away her tears with gloveless hands. 

The tears had stopped coming now, and she let him dry her face. "Oh, so now I have to tell you whenever I don't want you to look in on me when I'm doing something?" 

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's the safest bet." 

"Alright," she returned with equal indifference, walking toward the lavish bathroom. "I'm going to go take a bath." She paused, throwing him a look over her shoulder, "Don't watch." 

The childlike disappointment was so strong on his face and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh fine, you can. But," she continued, grinning wickedly, "Only if I get to watch you." 

Now it was Jareth's turn to laugh. "A fair exchange, I would have to say." 

  
**

- finis -

**

  
  
  
**A/N:** I know, you're probably thinking "But what about college, her family, their plans for the future? Will they get married and Sarah move to the Underground to become the Goblin Queen? Is it really possible to just watch someone take a shower without becoming an active participant?" But that's life: you never know what's gonna happen. Taking the easy way out? … Who, me? 


End file.
